


Fear You Won't Fall

by TheBeeThatHums



Series: Sherlock One Shots [15]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Love Confessions, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft needs Cake, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-12 13:05:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBeeThatHums/pseuds/TheBeeThatHums
Summary: When Mycroft calls you over to relay information to Sherlock yet again, you find yourself questioning if you're getting to close to the man made of Ice.





	Fear You Won't Fall

**Author's Note:**

> It would seem all these song fics take me in a direction that I didn't anticipate. This one turned out weird... good weird I think. I've been on such a Mycroft kick lately...

_Digging a hole and the walls are caving in_  
_Behind me_  
_Air's getting thin, but I'm trying, I'm breathing in_  
_Come find me_

_It hasn't felt like this before  
It hasn't felt like home before you_

**I have some information for my brother. Tea at noon?- MH**

Mycroft let out a heavy sigh. How had he gotten himself into this? Years and years of nothing and then you come along and change everything in an instant. He felt like every encounter with you was just making him fall further into the hole he’d dug himself and yet he still sought you out as often as he could. It was a direct contradiction to his beliefs and a continuous source of confusion for him.

All his life he’d felt above it all, like some superior entity watching over this insignificant world- a world he didn’t belong in. But when he was with you it was like he’d been blind, the world suddenly seemed interesting and so comfortably real, and suddenly he felt at home.

How long could he keep hiding that for you?

**Of course- (Y/I)**

You felt like you were suffocating.

Tea with Mycroft did that to you.

It didn’t help that Sherlock was relentlessly teasing you from his place on the couch but you had long since given up on shutting him up. You fidgeted with your hair in the mirror above the mantle as you repeated to yourself over and over again that it was just business. Sherlock hardly ever had a civilized conversation with Mycroft, so you and John acted as go-betweens.

Of course, he hadn’t called on John to do it in months but you assumed that that was because, in his own way, John could be as difficult as Sherlock at times. Not that that was something to complain about since you liked seeing Mycroft and missed seeing him when there was a long break in between your meetups. You supposed that was the root of the problem.

With all the attention he’d been giving you lately when you showed up to do what he wanted, it had become clear- you were head over heels in love with a man who barely acknowledged your existence but for passing things between him and his difficult younger brother.

How do you tell someone who doesn’t believe in love that you love them?

The answer: you don’t.  
  
_And I know it's easy to say but it's harder to feel_  
_This way_  
_And I miss you more than I should_  
Then _I thought I could_  
_Can't get my mind off of you_

“Why do you allow yourself to be afflicted by such an unfortunate disease as love, (F/n)? And for my ghastly brother no less?”

You rolled your eyes, “As we’ve discussed before, it’s not a conscious decision, Sherlock. Not that you would understand.”

“So why not send, John? He’s perfectly capable of retrieving whatever Mycroft has for me,” Sherlock offered, unfazed by your attempted jab at his limited competence in the subject of human emotion.

You turned to look at him and he added, “It would save you from the heartbreak later. He doesn’t feel things like love, (F/n).”

“I wasn’t aware you were so concerned of the wellbeing of my heart, Sherlock,” you teased, leaping on to the couch next to him, “Could it be that you do, in fact, care?”

His focus remained on the scientific journal he was skimming as he flatly responded, “Don’t be silly, (F/n). I only want to ensure that you do not continuously occupy the couch while you consume copious about amounts of ice cream and watch those dreadful romantic comedies on the telly. It would be inconvenient and disturb my process.”

You sighed, slipping off the couch to go to the door, “Well John is out now. So it’s not as though I can ask him. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Don’t act as though you would even if he weren’t.”

“Goodbyyye, Sherlock.”

_I know you're scared that I'll soon be over it_  
_That's part of it all_  
_Part of the beauty of falling in love with you_  
_Is the fear you won't fall_

You looked up at Mycroft’s home, pausing in front of it for a short while before proceeding up the front walk with your thoughts. Sherlock’s words rang in your head- ‘he doesn’t feel things like love’… he was probably right. It made your current position all the more ridiculous. The only reason you even saw Mycroft was when he had something for Sherlock or wanted information on his brother’s activities. How long would it be before he lost interest in you and just delivered the papers himself or sent Anthea? How long before he found another way to watch over his little brother that didn’t involve you?  

Without thinking you let out a strained sigh and Mycroft, who had opened the door for you already, quirked an eyebrow, “Something the matter, (F/n)?”

You startled slightly, “Wha- I hadn’t even knocked yet.”

“I saw you coming up the walk,” he offered, giving you a small smile, and you nodded, “Right. Hello then.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he hummed, letting you by with a concerned glance that you completely missed.

Stepping aside for him to lead the way after he’d shut the door, you offered him a grin, “It’ s nothing, Mycroft. Just something Sherlock said.”

_It hasn't felt like this before  
It hasn't felt like home before you_

_And I know it's easy to say but it's harder to feel_  
_This way_  
_And I miss you more than I should_  
Then _I thought I could_  
_Can't get my mind off of you_

He scrutinized you for a moment, wondering what his brother could have planted in your mind this time, and then slipped an arm around you so his hand landed lightly on your hip as he gestured down the hallway, “Shall we?”

You nodded, avoiding his gaze as he avoided yours so that both of you missed the light coating of pink to your cheeks at the contact. You loved that Mycroft was a proper gentleman- how could you not? Men were usually so crass and rude but he was gentle and polite- a little stiff maybe but you didn’t mind that.

You glanced up at him. Simply looking up at him made your heart race and it was made even worse when he looked over to return your gaze with a soft smile.  You quickly moved your focus to the hall in front of you, maybe you should have insisted John go in your stead or told Mycroft you were busy.

Just as you sat down to tea in the sitting room, you unconsciously let out another sigh and Mycroft quirked an eyebrow again, ”Something is bothering you, (F/n).  Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Why do you always call me here, Mycroft?” you wondered hesitantly and he blinked, not having expected that, “I wish to avoid the…  _difficulties_ of dealing with my brother, of course. Why else?”

“Of course,” you nodded.

Coming to a decision that Sherlock was right and this would only bring you heartache, you abruptly stood, “Apologies, I just remembered there is somewhere I need to be.”

He startled, getting up to trail you as you made for the door, “Are you sure?”

“I’m afraid so,” you murmured, turning to face him once your hand was on the doorknob, “It was nice to see you and I… I suggest that from now on you call on John when you wish to connect with Sherlock.”

He opened his mouth to ask why as his mind raced with thoughts as to what could have possibly prompted this change in attitude, what he may have done wrong, silent panic over the fact he wouldn’t have a reason to see you anymore, and ideas on how to get you to stay and change your mind. Before he could so much as process the situation you’d turned, walked out the door, and shut it firmly behind you, leaving him stunned and a more than a little confused.

 _And I hate the phone_  
_But I wish you'd call_  
_Thought_ being _alone_  
_Was better than, was better than_

Sherlock looked over at you from his chair, pausing his violin playing for a moment, “Staring at your mobile will not make it ring, (F/n).”

“Obviously,” you huffed, still not taking your eyes off the small electronic device on the coffee table in front of you.

You hadn’t moved since you got home and flopped face down on the couch with your arm hanging over the edge, staring forlornly at your phone on the table. You wished he would call. It was stupid, especially after the way you left, but you still wished it. You also wished John was home. You needed some cheering up and Sherlock wasn’t the best person to supply that. Though he hadn’t complained about you sulking on the couch and he was playing your favorite violin melody so you supposed in his own way he was trying.

Back at Mycroft’s house, the situation was surprisingly similar. He had cleared his schedule for the afternoon before inviting you over in anticipation of having as much time with you as possible and now he had nothing to do. He stared at his phone distastefully, sitting at the counter in the kitchen with a half-eaten double slice of chocolate cake in front of him. He was glad he’d had Anthea make sure there was always emergency cake in the fridge because at the moment he’d definitely needed it.  

He shoveled another bite in his mouth and then sat back to chew as he ran a hand down his face and pushed air out through his nose. He should call you…. Or perhaps John. At this point, he might even call Sherlock to at least see how you were doing or try to figure out why you’d left like you had. It frustrated him that he couldn’t figure it out on his own. It frustrated him even more that he felt lonely. That was something new.

He reached for the phone only to retract his hand- he didn’t have a good enough reason to call you. Letting out a small growl at the device he went back to stuffing his face with cake.

 _And I know it's easy to say but it's harder to feel_  
_This way_  
_And I miss you more than I should_  
Then _I thought I could_  
_Can't get my mind off of you_

After a sufficient amount of cake, he decided that dropping off the pointless folders that you hadn’t taken when you left was a good enough reason to pay a visit to Baker St. He grabbed his umbrella and pulled the door open only to find you on the other side, hand raised to knock.

Sherlock had finally kicked you off the couch and you’d started to think again, which clearly never leads to anything good since you somehow ended up at Mycroft’s front door, but on your way over you had a thought. A simple little thought about that question you’d asked yourself earlier.

Before Mycroft could do anything, you went up on your toes, grabbed his cheeks, and pressed your lips against his. He was too stunned to respond before you pulled away to look at him, the look on his face making you want to kiss him again just to further befuddle him. He was frozen with his eyes wide, his lips parted gently in surprise, and one foot still partly out the door from when he’d opened it.

You shifted uncomfortably as you started to come down off the little adrenalin high and then quickly offered, “Well then. I’m just gonna… go.”

 _And I know it's easy to say but it's harder to feel_  
_This way_  
_And I miss you more than I should_  
Then _I thought I could_  
_Can't get my mind off of you_

 _And I know it's easy to say but it's harder to feel_  
This way  
  
He caught your arm as you turned to leave and you cringed, excepting the worst, but when you turned to face him his lips were suddenly on yours and his hand on your cheek. You responded eagerly and he backed up so the two of you were inside, not breaking the kiss. Well, this had certainly gone better than you expected…You smiled into his lips, seems you’d left out a crucial part of the answer to that question you’d asked yourself time and time again.

How do you tell someone who doesn’t believe in love that you love them?

The answer: You don’t.  _You show them._


End file.
